The Pursuit

Green-ish apple with peanut butter, which took approximately four attempts, three knives, and a whole lot of perseverance to stir, if only partially. (Mental (and now written) note: buy another brand next time). The air conditioner unit's hum is overwhelming my senses while the hummingbirds have all taken the longest siesta known to bird-kind. OK.. Having sufficiently complained, I am ready to move on to my next paragraph. It can be seen and enjoyed below.

Why do I write? Let me count the ways. (Gotta love that poem! Incidentally, it was not written by Shakespear, as I so ignorantly believed).

Because I can.

Because I have too many words in my head.

Because I like to see how the words congregate together to form an image.

Because I have time on my hands.

Because it's exciting to see an idea drop into life out of thin air.

Because I have a tool for it, known as my laptop, and before that, I had pen and paper, and before that I have no idea, because I wasn't alive before the late '70's, and I don't know what came first: the pen and paper or the writing. When was it decided that the oral tradition had become flawed? After all, the best soup I have ever made was learned by watching my mama, not by reading a recipe book. Whew! Having sufficiently pondered life-changing topics, I am ready to paint the next paragraph, also to be viewed below.

Why do I write? Dance? Talk? Check my Facebook account? The list is very extensive here. Oh! Get angry, drive fast, look through my old memorabilia? Why do I do anything at all? In my short and fascinating time on this planet (since the '70's, in case you've forgotten the earlier statement), I have found myself to be devoid of any action under very few circumstances. I would put them under the umbrella called "Utterly Captivating Repose." (Sleep is not included). Please continue to the next paragraph for further explanation.

I do stuff, and I do stuff compulsively. 

I do stuff, because I have energy to use up. I move my body. I entertain my mind and feel various emotions. 

I do stuff, because I feel compelled.

Because I have to feel useful.

Because I want to be productive (except the goals are not all that well-defined).

I do stuff, of various proportions, because of one reason. Are you ready for the massive profundity? Drum roll...The moment you have waited three and a half paragraphs for has finally arrived. The truth, the "I-can't-believe-this-is-the-plug-I-have-been-so-eagerly-anticipating-to-read" truth is this: I am restless.

I also seem to doubt that, when on my beautifully decorated, ornate deathbed, I will be happy knowing that I had spent my life running. From here to there, everywhere, and elsewhere. 

Well, the thought process has entered its maturation point. The not-so-original conveyance has been conveyed, bringing me to the end of the creative process, exiting it through this portal of words. Yes, also to be found below.

I'll see you all at the gym of life. The latest news is that the monthly rates have increased, and I would urgently recommend finding another possibility.